That Which Binds Us
by thegoatromantic
Summary: Allen recounts the story of how he transformed his wife from a blushing virgin to his willing and playful kitten.


Author's Note: I am crazy obsessed with my ANB game, and I've just been _searching_ for my townspeople to say something fanfic worthy. I definitely found something to write about when Allen was on my farm the other day and I showed him my dog. He commented on how cute and obedient it was, and I just couldn't help myself when I wrote this. I apologize if I conveyed his personality incorrectly, but I didn't in marry him in the game (I'm in the process of marrying Soseki; Allen wasn't even my second choice anyway.) Read it, review it (much appreciated), and enjoy!

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~That Which Binds Us~

Harvest Moon: A New Beginning

Allen x Rachel

"Hey, Rachel," a voice purred, "I know you can't exactly respond to me right now, but you're doing a great job, love." One of Allen's immaculately manicured hands reached out and stroked, with one perfect finger, down the spine of Rachel's naked back until it met the red binds holding her hands tight together. She stretched her back, pressing her stomach further into the mattress of the bed, in an attempt to either get away from him, or perhaps move closer to the source of his touch, he wasn't sure. He slipped his finger beneath the cord wrapped around her wrists and tugged against it, appreciating his handy work. He chuckled, tugging at it again for emphasis as he spoke. "This is really the best work yet, I think. I've never tied a knot tighter, and you know how good I am with my hands." If she had been able to see him, he would have given her a flirty wink, accompanied by a quick display of his skillful hands, sure to make her cheeks glow the beautiful cherry red color he so loved, but it happened her eyes were as restrained as the rest of her body, and there was no way she was going to be able to see his face for a time due to the black cloth he had positioned over them.

Rachel stirred, trying to squirm away from his touch, muffled words never making it past the cloth tied over her mouth. Her opinions came out as grunts and sighs, which only further amused the red-headed man towering over her, her legs trapped between his own. He readjusted himself into a more comfortable position, his body now cradled by the crevasses of hers in the most perfect and pleasurable way, and began to speak again, his voice as arrogant and cocky as it ever was.

"Do you remember the first day we met, Rachel? You were so timid, fresh from your mother's arms. When Dunhill brought me to your farm that early morning, I had expected a dusty, unimpressive farm girl, both boring and lackluster in nature. But instead I saw you, your hair still tussled from your rush to comb through it, your overalls hanging off your shoulder because you obviously hadn't had enough time to get ready. Your eyes were still so sleepy, and I had hoped for you to reach up and brush away the exhaustion, the very image of innocence. I knew then you were what I wanted; what I had to have. The only question was how I was going to go about obtaining you. Dunhill spoke, introducing us, and I thought I was as enchanted with you as I could be. But you impressed me further, the way your cheeks began to glow when I finally spoke to you. You averted your eyes, shy and confused. Such sweetness, such purity." He leaned over her, his bare chest coming into contact with her naked back, sending shivers through his body. He cupped her cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the smooth planes. "You're a very rare treat, Rachel. So rare."

More mumbled sounds came from beneath him and Allen moved, resting his body beside her bound one. He flopped down on his back, spreading his arms out against the comforter and stretched calmly. He yawned once, covering his mouth, then reached his hand toward her and gently twisted a strand of her straw-colored hair around in his fingers. He turned his face, silently watching her for a moment, then continued his story.

"At first I gave you space, allowed you to come to me. I was worried for a while, that perhaps I had misjudged some quality of yours, and wondered if you would actually approach me. I waited in my shop, casually going about my day, styling the hair of those who requested it, advising the others who did not, going through my meals, which I gradually likened more and more to sawdust in my mouth as the days passed. But then you came, that stormy Sunday, and I knew I had been right. The bell to my shop tinkled almost unheard against the backdrop of the falling rain. I had been upstairs, choking down yet another pointless meal when I had thought I had imagined it. My heart raced for a second, I remember, and then I became discouraged, mentally reminding myself that I had been imagining the bell above the door tinkling, announcing your presence in my salon, for days now, and I forced another spoonful of broth to my mouth, when your voice floated hesitantly up my staircase. Do you remember what you said, Rachel?" He gave her a moment of silence, at the end of which there was no response and he spoke again.

"You simply questioned, 'Allen? If you're not in, I could come again.' You rang the bell on my counter once, too shy to come up the stairs to look for me. Meanwhile, my hands shook wildly upstairs, just above you, and I had to calm myself, knowing I would surely scare you away if I had come into your company in such a state. So I threw myself together and calmly descended the stairs, smirking at you. You were a wet, dripping thing. Your poor hair was in such a state of distress, I noticed. It was purely painful to look upon. I was concerned you had tripped, fallen into a dirty puddle of mud on the way to my house, because it was storming, after all, which was quite a surprise to me. I hadn't expected you to visit during a storm, instead imagining the entire day you would be safely secluded behind the doors of your home, huddled up in a blanket, reading, perhaps, or doing some other menial task. But you were there, in the doorway of my house, holding something close to your breast, and I inquired as to its nature."

'"'It's a gift, for you,' you told me, watching me warily as I rounded the corner of my counter. You stammered, hurriedly, to tell me it was a gift for introducing myself to you a few days before, but I knew it was a sign of your interest; I knew you had done no such thing for anyone else in the village. You were so shy, my dear, so very, very timid. Should you like to see now, Rachel?" His fingers traced the outline of the strip across her face, trailing electricity in the wake of his movements. She could feel the heat of his skin on her face, heating the parts of her face which were not covered. It was like a fever slowly spreading its way across her body, consuming her in a fiery grip.

She nodded her head vigorously, not knowing if he was actually going to remove the blindfold from her. She waited patiently, her heart beating madly in her chest, the seconds stretching into hours as he remained unmoving beside her. She wondered if he had somehow moved away from her, and was now no longer even in the same room as she. She spoke, her words falling meaningless as they met the soft barrier covering her lips.

"Hush now, hush, Rachel." The words seemed to come from behind her, startling her, however when the darkness melted away she saw Allen's face, mischievous as always. His gray eyes danced with a restrained fire, amusement clear across every feature of his face. He smiled at her, his lips turning up devilishly as he took her in.

"You're so beautiful, Rachel." His eyes softened for but a moment, speaking volumes of his feelings for her. He reached out and touched her again, rediscovering, as happened every time he touched her, that he could not be close enough to her or feel her enough times to sate his desires. He hooked his finger beneath her chin and gently pulled her face to his, cautiously kissing her, holding back, teasing her cruelly. Their lips glided against the other's, and furtively Rachel strained forward, looking for more pressure, more intensity from him. His lips formed a devilish smile against hers and he nibbled softly and briefly on her lip and pulled away, noticing that her eyes had become as hazy as he felt. He licked his lips, his breath rushing madly from his lungs; this girl, this enchanting woman, had the power to kill him, he was sure, with just the strength in her small frame.

He took a moment to compose himself, his lids falling over his eyes as he tried to still the blood rushing through his body. His lips mashed together, and for the quickest second a flicker of anguish crossed his face, brief but impressing. Then he relaxed, suddenly, and he opened his eyes to gaze at her, taking a moment to remember where he had left off.

"It was just a moondrop flower that you had brought me, something found by even the smallest of children in the mountains on any given day. But I graciously smiled and accepted it, knowing it was a sign of acquiescence on your behalf. I plucked the flower from between your fingers quickly, bringing it to my nose to smell it. A plain smell, typically, but it was so alluring at the time. I can still remember it, you know. If I looked, I'm sure I could find the flower somewhere in the house. Perhaps it's in the salon. But does it really matter, now that I have the true gift?"

"From then on, you came to visit me almost daily, still wary of how I felt, and how you yourself felt. You were nervous, never sure how I'd react. I remember the times we met, sometimes purposefully, and sometimes by accident, like the time we crossed paths by the river. I invited you for tea, do you recall? I was taking a break from work and we happened to meet, though I'm sure you were on the way to collecting more wildflowers for me. I had bouquets of them by the end of the week from all your visits, and it always pained me to throw them away, do you know? It was days like those, where we were together peacefully, that are most memorable to me, don't you agree?" He chuckled, flicking her nose gently. "Don't strain yourself in an effort to respond."

After that, Allen closed his eyes and laid his head back, his breathing evening out to the point that Rachel believed he had fallen asleep. She waited, wondering what was happening, and then began to writhe, attempting to loosen the ties that held her hands and feet.

Allen grunted at her, peeking one eye open, his mouth turning down into a frown.

"Stop squirming!" he commanded. He pushed himself up, lunging to check to make sure she had not, in fact, loosened anything in her struggle. "Enough of that, Rachel!" He huffed at her, pouting his lips disappointedly. "You're going to ruin all my hard work, love. You have become so adventurous and misbehaved since that day I brought you to the river."

"I remember it like it was yesterday, the first time I encouraged you to be a woman of my standards. I wanted to tell you about myself, to confess everything of my past to you, but I wanted you to ask me, to be interested. I teased you, fed you bits of information, and when you wanted to know more I forced you to beg me, leading you to the proper path. I made you purse your lips and bat your eyelashes, asking me in a sexy little voice if I would kindly tell you more. Of course, it wasn't a sexy voice, but more of a strangled groan that you gave me, but it was the beginning for you, the moment you first started to blossom. From there it was easy. A little teasing here, and little prodding there, and soon I could have you begging me for anything. You started to shop around at Yuri's more, searching for clothes more suited to my tastes. You came to visit me one day wearing this endearing pain of orange overalls, the ones, you might realize, over there, on the floor where we left them." Rachel's eyes flicked to the corner of the bedroom, near the partially closed door where they laid in an unorganized heap. She looked back at Allen, arrogantly pleading with her eyes for something he wasn't ready to give her. He licked his lips, watching her eyes follow the movement desperately. He clicked his tongue at her, resting his hand gently in the tangle of her hair and lead her face down to the mattress, removing her powerful gaze from his line of sight. He massaged gently, humming as he did so.

"Do you remember the day you finally admitted to me that you like the way it feels when I touch you? I was doing your hair, though I can't remember why. I had been flirting with you all evening long, since you had walked through the doors, and though I had laid claim on you, I was still waiting for you to make a claim on me. Sheepishly, after a silence, you mumbled that my fingers felt magical in your hair. I prompted you, telling you it was because of the way you felt about me, and you finally agreed. That was the official day we started dating, according to you, but we were as good as married to me at that point." Allen lifted his hand, admiring the golden band of his wedding ring. It hardly sparkled in the dimly lit room, but in the daytime it was brilliant, a true treasure. He motioned it toward Rachel. "A wondrous gift, but none so magnificent as you are, beautiful."

After that day, we were inseparable, I like to think. You came to me daily, staying late into the night with me as we enjoyed each other's company. You even cooked me dinners, sometimes graciously cooking some Genovese Pasta for me, which you know I adore. You made it for me once, on one of my bad days. I was glum, and you came to the salon. I told you I was in no mood to entertain you, and you marched up to me, now empowered with yourself. You stared me in the eyes and harshly told me you weren't going anywhere. We were in a bad spot at that point, something having to do with that man you were keeping in touch with from the city. I was upset with you, feeling as if you were in the process of betraying me. I had wondered if perhaps I had enlightened you to the joys of independence too much, and you were plotting an escape, planning to run from me. I was cross, thinking my hard work was going to flee from me. But you came to my house, looked me in the eyes, told me to stop being dramatic, and you marched me upstairs and cooked some pasta for me. It was a taste of the future. I envisioned, throughout the entire event, that we were married, and you were my gorgeous and faithful wife, cooking dinner for us both after an exhausting day of work. I started planning my proposal that evening, figuring out just exactly how I was going to go about it. It took me forever, because it had to be perfect for you. Everything had to be perfect for you. I finally decided, knowing your extreme love for writing letters- damn that man you wrote to for those few weeks, how he got your address, I'll never know- so I set about writing you the sweetest letter I could. So used to being standoffish, it was difficult for me to tell you exactly how I felt. I didn't want to come across as bossy or manipulative, and I spent entire nights sitting up in my kitchen, thinking of the proper way to tell you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. However was I to explain that from the very first minute I laid eyes on you, I knew I had wanted you, and I went about courting you immediately, before I even knew who you really were? Despite our closeness, I knew it would be startling to hear. There were so many things I wanted to tell you, namely the difficulty I was having restraining myself in your presence; you were so feminine, so innocently seductive. Your every movement lit in my veins a fire which I had to fight to extinguish. You were still so naive, so untouched, and I was loathe to ruin it for you so soon-"

Rachel made a choking sound behind her gag and Allen's heard skipped a beat. For a moment he stared at her, wondering if he had perhaps tied the cloth too tightly around her head, He ran his fingers across it, feeling for tautness, and drew his brows, confused when he found it was no tighter than his usual tie. He watched her warily from the corner of his eye, fixating his gaze across the bedroom at a spot of moonlight on the wall.

"I knew I had to wait for the binds of marriage, the cold metal of a wedding band around my finger, before I could invite you the final step into my arms. Everything you did, Rachel, tore me up inside with a hunger only a man can feel for the woman he knows is his one and only. How I longed to turn you around when you faced away from me, tangle my hands in your hair, and open your mouth forcefully with my own. Can you ever imagine how much control I had to place on myself to stop from stripping you of that pair of orange overalls the day you first walked into my house wearing them? For you, my unspoiled bride, I acted the perfect gentleman, while inside I was raging to experience an exquisite pleasure with you, to find an uncontrolled release within your virgin body."

"To think, my dear, of how brightly your cheeks would have colored had I said those words to you the first day we met. It would have been the first and only words we ever shared, I'm sure. But look at you now, tied and bound in my bed, waiting eagerly for the blessing of my touch on your heated body. Isn't that right, Rachel?" He looked to her, his eyes rolling casually to hers, finding the answer to his question deep within them.

"You've been so patient with me, listening to me talk. You must be at your limit right about now, aren't you? I'm sure if I were to explore a little, I would find you heated and wet, waiting for me. From the moment you opened my letter earlier this morning, you've been waiting for this moment haven't you?" He flashed her his charming grin. "How much you've changed since that first day, so many years ago. From an innocent virgin to my willing and eager kitten." Allen sat up, moved to the edge of the bed, and stood, his half-naked body hidden completely from her view. He gently lifted her feet, which were also bound, and held one of her porcelain appendages in his hand, admiring the way she was able to keep it so smooth, despite all the hard work she put into her farm each and every day. He pressed his thumbs into the center of it, massaging it gently, rubbing pressured circles around it. He moved his way up to her ankles, which were held tight together, and slipped past them to the bottom of her calf. He continued his gentle kneading, working every inch of her perfect legs, slowing making his way toward her pelvis; the higher he got, the more tense her muscles became and the more she moved about, trying to get away from his working hands. When he reached her butt he opened his palms, and gave one to each rounded globe, grabbing them purposefully, massaging her in such a way that he knew would drive her crazy. He continued his ministrations, donating all of his attention to her backside, never moving an inch above or below them, staying only where he knew would frustrate her the most.

Sneakily, Allen dipped his hands lower, reaching for a spot he knew would drive his wife absolutely insane. He ran a finger along the core of her body, felt his own harden at her lustful groan, and felt a pressure settle itself over him when she arched herself toward him. He moved back up to her backside, massaging them again, and tried to ignore what his own body was telling him to do; he wanted to make it last, and if he gave into his desires now, there would be no way for him to make his wife's pleasure last as long as he had planned.

Rachel, however, struggled against his hands, trying to move in such a way that she could get what she wanted from him. She tried to wriggle her way closer to him but he stopped her, placing his hands firmly against her butt cheeks and clucked his tongue at her. Her response was a long, drawn out whimper, and he knew she was going crazy.

"What is it you want, my dear? I cannot indulge you if you won't tell me what it is you need." He cupped his hand to his ear, the place he removed his hand from cooling gently with the night air. Rachel whined some more, and Allen shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, if you won't tell me what it is you want, then I suppose I'll just have to do what I want to do."

Rachel waited, expecting to feel his hands moving around her body, but nothing happened. The distant sound of an owl calling out into the dark forest echoed, the silence of the night overwhelming. She could hear the clock ticking slowly in the living room, loudly calling out each second that passed. And then a crack rang out, Allen's hand meeting with her backside swiftly and heavily. Her right butt cheek burned sharply and she gasped, the heat spreading through her. He did it again, as forcefully as the first time, and Rachel held her breath, ready and waiting for the third clap to happen. The sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed throughout the empty rooms of their home, and Rachel nearly groaned from the pleasure of the feel of his hands. She grunted, feverishly squirming against that which held her. She needed to be able to move, needed to be able to lay her hands on her husband, who she knew was burning just as explosively as she was.

Allen shook his finger at her movements, grabbing her ankles and lifting them lightly into the air. "Now, now, Rachel, calm yourself, or I'll never give you what you really want." She continued to squirm for a moment, testing the strength of her restraints, and then suddenly stilled, realizing that her efforts were futile and the knots he had tied tonight really were the best he had ever tied before.

"Oh, I do love obedient animals…" He flipped her over gently, so he could look into her hazy eyes. His, meanwhile, grew heavy with suppressed desire, and the words he had yet to speak fueled his inner fire.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

Rachel nodded her head vigorously, her neck straining back, her entire body aching for his touch. He inhaled sharply, his movements becoming slower as he began to lose control.

"Honest _and_ cute," he commented, his hands spidering carefully up the inside of her thighs, reaching closer and closer to the point they were both interested in. "I love to pet them."


End file.
